A Separate Peace
by Rachel Wilder
Summary: Football was never going to be his life. That was Jay’s thing, and as much as Tim respects his best friend, he never wanted to be Jason Street. Based on spoilers from 3x12, but not 3x13. Written by Rachel Wilder and Shelbecat


**A Separate Peace**

**by Shelbecat and Rachel Wilder  
**

Spoilers: 3x12 (not based on any spoilers for 3x13)

_There's not a single person in this room that's ever going to be the same._

_- Coach Eric Taylor, Dec. 2008_

There's a truth in Coach Taylor's words that settles over Tim like a warm blanket. Right now he's dog tired, his shoulder feels like someone stabbed a hot poker into it, and they just lost the last game he was ever going to play as a Panther. There shouldn't be any comfort to be found in the Longhorn's dressing room. Half the players are counting down the minutes 'til their first beer; the other half are looking forward to next year, and the chance to do it all again.

And all Tim can think is 'this is my last game'. Not just as a Panther, which is what everyone already knows anyway; but ever. He's done. And he feels free.

* * *

When Jay went down—it always comes back to that for Tim now—he thought he could be done with football too. But the realization came pretty quick that there was something more expected of him. It wasn't enough to be there to make the blocks or catch the plays. That 'C' on his jersey actually meant something, and he had to step up in a big way.

Most days he thinks his high school football career went okay. It's easy to forget the hung-over practices or the awful days with Coach MacGregor where he couldn't measure up no matter how hard he tried (and truthfully, he hadn't felt like trying very hard). He helped J.D. open up a bit. He and Matt found some sort of symmetry that comes when you know exactly what the other player is thinking. Coach Taylor relied on him to make the plays, and it got him noticed by San Antonio State—his future.

Tim's not sure how his college football career would compare to high school, but sitting on the bench with ice strapped to his shoulder, he can't imagine how it could end any better than this. He'd have some great wins, sure; some hard losses and harder hits too. And none of it bothers him; he just can't get excited for any of it. Football was never going to be his life. That was Jay's thing, and as much as Tim respects his best friend, he never wanted to be Jason Street.

* * *

Lyla is right there when he steps off the bus.

"You're hurt. Do you need…"

He smiles and wraps his right arm around her shoulder. He doesn't mind the concern. She probably didn't realize he went down as hard as he did, and he certainly wasn't going to sit out even one play. But he doesn't want to think about his shoulder or the pain that's cutting through him. He wants to go home with his girlfriend and just enjoy being here in Dillon with her for a few more months.

Because soon he's going to have to break her heart. And it'll kill him, and maybe her, but he knows it's the best gift he could ever give her. He just hopes that one day she'll learn to forgive him.

* * *

Lyla has a beer open for each of them when Tim comes out of the bathroom.

"Celebratory drink?" she says, smiling even though she probably knows he's not in the mood to celebrate.

Still, beer was always his thing, and it's become hers in a big way since she moved in. It's not something he's proud of—rubbing his bad habits off on the girl he loves. But Lyla isn't a child, and Tim knows more than anyone that she can make up her own mind. He's not about to tell her not to drink.

"Uh, I think I just want to go to bed," he says, moving towards his room.

Beer dribbles down her chin as he catches her unaware with the can tipped to her mouth.

"Oh! You sure?" She tips the can back and takes a longer mouthful. "I'll come. I just thought…" She gestures at the open, untouched can sitting there for him.

Tim shakes his head. "Not tonight."

"Okay, I'll be right in." Lyla takes the can with her to the bathroom, drinking as she walks.

It's not a problem, and maybe it never will be. But she's different around him. No one had ever called him a good influence, but it was an entirely different matter to find out you were a bad one. He wants to be the strong support she needs, not her handicap.

The can is still in her hand when she enters the bedroom, or is that the one she had opened for him? It doesn't matter. Tim is sitting on the bed with his arm still strapped to his chest and no energy to fight against the pain.

"Here, let me," Lyla says, coming to his side.

Her hands are cool on his skin, a welcome relief to the ache settling in his muscles. Slowly, she guides his arm free of the sling and strips his shirt from his body. She reaches to put the sling back on again but he shakes his head. He needs ice, and Advil…lots of it. And he needs to sleep with her, just sleep for a change. Nothing has changed and everything is different. Tim feels like he knows where he is headed, but it's a secret he hasn't shared yet. He's going to do this the way Jay would of—gently, and with kindness. He's not going to let her think this has anything to do with her. He wants it to seem like it's all him. But it's not.

If Tim had his way, he never would have let Lyla settle for going to San Antonio State with him. But how could he tell her not to come? It was college. And at least she was going. Except he knows she won't go if he's not there, and so that's the only way to get her back on the path to Vanderbilt. She'll probably hate him. But it's a selfless act, and if there's one thing Lyla should appreciate after the wringer Buddy put her through, it's that Tim is not doing this for himself at all.

She brings him Advil and water, and a bag of frozen peas to numb the pain in his battered shoulder. He closes his eyes and lies back, shifting to let her lie on his right side instead of the usual left. It'll work out okay. Vanderbilt is not too far to drive.

* * *

"I went out on the field by myself last night," Tim starts. He's been sitting in silence while Lyla packed a few of her clothes to go back to Buddy's house. It didn't upset him; she'd still be here most nights, or he'd revert to sneaking back in to her place. But it would give her a permanent home with her father, something Tim fully supported.

"You mean before the game?" Lyla asks.

"No, after. Everyone was gone."

"Oh yeah?" she says, not really interested. "Why?"

"To say goodbye."

"What?" Now she's listening intently.

"I left my cleats out there." Tim shrugged. "It felt like…what do you call it? Closure."

Lyla folds the shirt she's holding over her forearm and sits on the bed beside him. "Tim," she says softly.

She's looking at him like maybe he hurt his head in the game too. But he's thinking clearer than he has in a long time.

"Did something happen last night?"

"No." He shakes his head. Then he stops. "Yes," he corrects himself, smiling at her confusion.

"You're starting to freak me out a little," she says, but there's a smile on her face.

"Do you still think about going to Vanderbilt?" he asks, changing the subject.

Her face drops and she stands up again. "Why are you bringing that up?" She stresses _that_ like you could catch a disease from it. Furiously, she folds her shirts into crooked squares, the pile looking more and more like the leaning tower of Pisa.

Reaching out, he places his right hand on hers, stilling her movements. "I just meant if everything hadn't of happened. Would you still want to go?"

"Well everything did happen. And there's no point talking about 'what ifs'. I can't go, and besides…" Her breath escapes in a long sigh. She closes her eyes and pauses. When she opens them, she's calm and smiling at him. "We're going to be together, right? That's better anyway."

There's a vacancy in her eyes, and it's not because she loves him any less than she did yesterday. She loves him as much as she's ever going to, and maybe it's enough to see them through a long future together. But it's not enough to see them through her throwing her life away for him.

He's treading on fragile ground with her here. He knows she's found ways to protect her heart from damage. And one of those ways is being certain about her future. A future he's about to rip into pieces.

"Well, what if I wasn't going? You'd still want to go to Vanderbilt, right?"

Lyla comes back around to sit on the bed beside him, her eyes narrowed and questioning. "What if you weren't going where? Tim? You are going to college. You got in. It's all arranged. And I'm going too. Where is this coming from?"

"I left my cleats out on the field last night."

"I know," she interrupted. "But I'm sure someone will pick them up…"

"No, you don't get it. I went out there after everyone was gone and just stood there. In that huge stadium where they play college ball and I just…" Tim bowed his head away from Lyla's piercing gaze. She was his biggest cheerleader. How did he tell her he was quitting.

"It's not for me. College, playing ball in college…that was never something I was going to do."

"That was before you got in," Lyla said.

He looked up at her. "I still feel the same way."

Lyla was quiet, staring at a shirt she had wrinkled in her hands. "Tim, you cannot tell me you are giving up before we even try this. Because that would be…that is horrible. We deserve a chance to see if we can make it work." Tears spring to her eyes.

"What?" He was confused. How was this about them making it work? "I don't want to break up, Garrity. I just don't want to play ball. I don't want the whole college life."

"The whole college life living with me. I get it." She stood up and jammed the shirt into her bag. "You know, I thought me moving in here might have been a bad idea, but then it seemed to go so well. And I'm only moving out because I cannot live with your brother pissing in the sink. It's too much. But then you go and quit on next year, quit your whole future. That could be your career, Tim. But clearly, the thoughts of living with me are too awful for you to consider going to college…"

"Lyla, no…"

"Save it." Lyla turned towards the doorway, then paused and shot a glance back in his direction. "I thought you'd finally grown up." She shook her head and turned away. "I'll come back for my stuff."

"Wait! Garrity, wait!" Tim pushed off the bed, his shoulder protesting every inch of the way. The front door slammed before he made it to his feet and he knew he had to let her go. She'd calm down eventually, or not, but he wasn't going to get through to her right now.

Slowly, he sank back against the pillows. His shoulder ached, but it was nothing compared to how he felt about what had happened. This was supposed to be for her, a gift he was giving her. But all she could see was what he was taking away from himself. He didn't feel like he was losing anything…except maybe the girl he loved, which—sitting along in his room with her suitcase half-packed on his bed—felt like the biggest loss of all.

* * *

Billy was only too glad to load Lyla's things into Tim's truck.

"She's a good cook and all, but I enjoy walking around in my underwear too much, you know?"

"Like you ever let that stop you," Tim teased.

"Well, yeah, but I felt bad about it."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore," Tim said as he hefted her suitcase into the truck.

"Hey, it's not like she won't be sleeping here every night anyway. She'll just need to borrow more of your shirts to sleep in. Why do girls dig that?" Bully muttered as he walked back into the house.

Tim shook his head. He hadn't heard from Lyla since she'd left that morning. He doubted there'd be a knock on his bedroom door anytime soon.

He was headed back into the house to grab her things from the bathroom when his phone rang.

_Six_

Tim flipped the phone open. "Hey."

"Nice game, Riggs," Jason started. "Sorry about the loss, but honestly—it was quite a game. I'm sorry I couldn't have been there."

"You saw it already?"

"Yeah, Coach sent me the DVD overnight. Guess I'm a big name fan or something," Jason laughed.

Tim smiled. It was good to hear Jason's voice. He hadn't told anyone, but he had been a bit surprised when Jason didn't show up for the game.

"How's the shoulder?" Jason asked.

"Hurts," Tim responded.

"Well, get someone to look at it. You don't want it still bugging you next fall."

Tim leaned back against the truck and took in a deep breath. "Yeah, about that…"

"About what?" Jason asked.

"I don't know, Six. I…I left my cleats on the field."

"That's sixty bucks down the drain," Jason said with a laugh. "But they'll get you all new stuff next fall."

"I'm not going, Six," Tim replied quietly.

"You're not…Riggins, do you know how many hours I put into that video?"

Tim had to smile. There was no judgment in Jason's voice. Disbelief maybe, but he didn't seem angry.

"I don't know. Me, going to college, Lyla going with me…"

"Sounds like 'The Jason Street Plan'."

"Yeah," Tim echoed softly. And maybe that was the reason he didn't want it.

"Well," Jason said after a long silence. "College was never your path, but don't screw yourself out of a good thing."

Did he mean college, or Lyla? Tim wasn't sure.

"I mean…what are you going to do there in Dillon by yourself?"

Maybe he did mean Lyla, and Tim's head was starting to hurt thinking about it.

"I'll find something to do. Billy's going to open a repair shop—Riggins' Rigs."

Jason snorted. "Leave it to Billy to come up with the catchy name. Let me guess, drinking beer and fixing cars 24/7?"

"He might have put it exactly like that," Tim laughed. "But I thought I could do that for a while. Help him out."

"The hell you will." Billy's voice startled him.

Tim turned to see his older brother standing in front of the truck, his hands firmly planted on his hips.

"Who the hell you talking to?" Billy asked.

"Jay," Tim replied.

"Well he should be telling your fool ass that you are going to college, not hanging around here with me." Billy shook his head and paced a few steps towards the house and back. "Like I want you drinking all the beer."

"Listen, Six," Tim said into the phone. "I should probably…"

"You need me to tell you to go to college first?" Jason asked. "Or you think Billy's got it covered."

"I'm not going to listen anyway," Tim replied, ignoring Billy's stare.

"Well I know you too well to try and change your mind." Jason paused. "This is the right thing for you, isn't it?"

"It is."

"And Lyla?"

Tim closed his eyes. He had never gotten used to talking about Lyla with Jay. There was too much history. He wasn't sure it would ever feel right.

"Look Timmy, you don't have to throw everything away, okay? Just… you deserve some of it. Remember that."

"Thanks, man."

"Anytime. And get that shoulder checked out anyway. You don't want to feel like an old man at 18."

"Did he convince you yet?" Billy said angrily.

"I'll call you soon, Six."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll call you next week."

Jason ended the call and Tim slowly closed his phone. Billy was still pacing back and forth, looking like a bull preparing to charge.

"So…" he finally said, staring at Tim like he was a toddler.

Tim shrugged. What was there to say?

"You have got to be shittin' me! After everything we went through to get you in? You are just, like, what? Dropping out?"

Tim moved past Billy towards the house. "They don't call it dropping out when you don't go."

Billy reached out, grabbing at Tim's left arm.

Pain shot through his shoulder, almost dropping him to his knees.

"Oh shit, oh shit. I'm sorry, Tim. Get up, get…"

Billy tried to hoist him back to a standing position, but Tim shrugged him off.

"Leave it," he said, closing his eyes as he placed his right hand gingerly on his shoulder. His shoulder was killing him, but it was just surface pain. Pain, he could deal with. Pain was a sure thing. Right now the pressure building behind his eyelids was all about making a decision and wondering whether you were making the biggest mistake of your life.

Billy was quiet, rubbing his fist into his palm like he was preparing to hit something.

"I should have known this was never going to happen. I love you, but you're too stupid to see a good thing when it slaps you right in the face."

"That's your opinion," Tim said quietly, unable to make eye contact with his brother.

"Damned right, it is," Billy replied. "You think you can get very far without an education? You should have learned at least one thing from me."

So now Tim had the hopes and dreams of Billy planted firmly on his shoulders as well. Great. He couldn't take a step forward for tripping someone else up today.

"I've got to get this stuff over to Lyla," Tim said.

"Yeah, and you better apologize to her too, because I'm betting as soon as she hears this bull she'll dump your ass."

Tim was silent.

"Oh…oh, I get it. She already knows, and she's gone, isn't she?" Billy said. He got up in Tim's face, jabbing a finger towards Tim's chest. "You are not a fuck-up, you hear me? Somewhere along the line, I'm sure someone told you you were useless, and hell…I probably said it a time or two. But you are the only one of us to ever get in to college. And you are going to be the only one of us to go."

"Billy…"

"Non-negotiable, Tim."

Billy turned and walked into the house. Tim watched him go; watched another person he loved walk away from a fight over college with him.

Was it worth it? Couldn't he just give in and do what everyone else wanted him to do?

Jason's words rang in his head. 'You don't have to throw everything away.'

He got in his truck to try and get back a little of his happiness.

* * *

Driving was an interesting challenge, but Tim kept his wrist on the wheel when he was shifting and made it to Lyla's house in one piece. He parked behind her car and tried to suck up the courage to go in. At least he didn't see Buddy's car on the street. He didn't want to talk about football for one more minute.

He knew she was still mad by how long she made him wait. Finally, after the fifth time he knocked, she opened the door and stared at him, silent.

"I brought your things," he said.

Lyla huffed angrily. "Sorry you were in such a hurry to get me out of there."

"Lyla…"

But she was gone. She walked back into the apartment; but the door was still open. He stepped inside and closed it gently behind him. She studiously ignored him; sitting at the dining room table with her laptop.

"I have to apply for a dorm in San Antonio. Can't really afford a place on my own now."

Tim sat down on the arm of the couch, shifting his shoulder uncomfortably. The trainer had been very clear that he was to wear the sling until it felt better, but finding it in the mess of his room hadn't been a priority when he was leaving.

"Lyla, I don't want you to go to San Antonio State."

"Oh!" Lyla threw up her hands. "This is rich! So it's not that you don't want to go to college; you don't want anyone to get an education, is that it?"

"Will you stop?" Tim said, his voice rising.

Lyla snapped her mouth shut, daring him to continue.

He sighed and stood up, shrugging against the weight of his jacket pressing on his shoulder. "I want you to go where you want to go. And you know that's Vanderbilt. It's always been Vanderbilt. You shouldn't have to give up your dreams for me."

"I'm giving them up because of money, or have you been paying attention."

"I can help you with the money. If you'll let me."

"Tim…" Her voice was quiet. "I can't take your money. And you don't have nearly enough anyway. It's $52,000. That's a lot of copper wire or house flipping."

"I'm not giving you my money." He smiled at her. "I mean I know a thing or two about financial aid. Or I've heard things. And you can qualify for programs, work programs. You might have to work in the cafeteria, but maybe you'll get the library or something. And Buddy has some money. Enough to pay for an apartment or a dorm room, right? And I'm going to work with Billy. I'll be able to help you out a bit. There are ways you can do this…if you want it bad enough."

Lyla shook her head and looked down at the table. "Why are you doing this?"

Slowly, Tim walked across the room, pulling a chair out to sit with his knees touching hers. "I want you to be happy."

"No, I mean the whole college thing, dropping out before you even go. What happened in Austin?"

Tim shrugged. "I played my last game." He smiled at her, trying to make her see what he did when he thought about football. "Coach said we were going to talk about this game for years. And he was right. That was a great game, even if we did lose. And it's enough for me. I don't want to play football anymore."

"But it's a chance for you to get an education."

"You pushed me into applying for college." He smiled to mask the effect of his words. "It's not like I was completely innocent. I let Jay and Billy do that video, and I filled out the applications. But I never wanted to do it."

"That's because you didn't think you could."

"No, it's because I didn't want to." Tim shook his head and stared down at their legs touching ever so slightly. "I know that I might need a college education someday. And I know that I might start working with Billy and really hate it. And maybe I'll regret not going on a scholarship when I had the chance. But I don't want it this way. Playing ball, going to school, that was Jay's thing. He was going to be the star; you knew it, and you were going to go right along with him."

"Tim, don't…"

"No, I'm not trying to bring up the past, it's just…" Tim paused. How did he say this without hurting her again? He took a deep breath. "It's just that sometimes I think people expect me to fill his shoes. Which is crazy, I know. I could never be half the player Six was. But in Dillon, at school, they want someone to be as good as he was, and sometimes it's like they are looking at me to do it.

"Sometimes you look at me like that."

"Tim, no, I don't…I…"

"It's okay. Jay's a great guy, obviously." Tim smiled, but it stung. It hurt that she sometimes tried to fit Tim into Jason's place. He knew he didn't fit—he never could and never wanted to. "But I'm not Jay, Lyla. I'm never going to be able to give you the things he could."

Lyla was quiet, her head bowed away from him. He reached out for her face, tipping her chin upwards. The tears shining on her cheeks almost broke him.

"Don't cry," he pleaded.

"I can't help it," she said softly, leaning towards him. "I love you, Tim. You are so stupid, and you frustrate me so much, but I love you. You, Tim Riggins. And you could never be Jason. I should know. I loved Jason. I still…well, there's a part of me that will always love him, but it's not the same. It couldn't be."

Lyla paused. "With you, there's a light. And sometimes it's really dim, and I know you're hurting and I can hardly see the light, but it's in there. It's always burning. And then sometimes it shines so brightly." She placed her hand on his chest above his heart, her eyes shining with tears. Her voice caught in her throat as she spoke. "So bright, Tim. You are a beautiful person. And you have so much to offer. You can't throw that away. You really can't throw that away for me."

Tim was quiet. Her words hurt. Not because they were caustic, but because they were true. He knew she was right—he couldn't throw away his dreams for her.

"So, let me be that person, Lyla. Don't make me hide it away and keep pretending like I have been the last two years. I know it was your image that I would go to college and do all those things to be successful, but I think for me, success just might be working with Billy and helping him make something out of his life."

Lyla looked at him. "Riggins' Rigs?"

A smile crept across Tim's face and he nodded. "Yeah, I think so. I know you think he's an idiot, but you know, he kind of gave up his life to take care of me, and he's a royal screw-up, but maybe that's the thing that I can do for him—maybe I can help him and be a part of this thing and help him succeed."

"I wanted you to get out of here—to have your own life and dreams," Lyla said quietly. "To be more than one of the Riggins' boys."

Tim shrugged. "But that's what I am, Garrity—I thought that's why you fell in love with me."

A grin flashed across Lyla's face.

"Maybe you can't go to Vanderbilt. Maybe you'll have to figure something else out, but I know you were only going to San Antonio State for me and just like you wanted more for me, I want more for you. If we go down there to college together, we're only going to grow to hate each other and I don't ever want to do that to you."

Lyla looked up and smiled. "The Vanderbilt admissions counselor did call me yesterday after she got my letter turning down the offer. I told her what happened with Buddy and she said we could try and work something out."

"And you weren't going to tell me this?"

"I wanted to go with you."

"And I never would have let you do that."

"Jason told me I was an idiot to follow you to school," Lyla said. "He said I was short-sighted when I wanted to follow him to Notre Dame. He told me it was time to become my own person."

"He's right," Tim answered. "I mean, you already have—you're your own person, Lyla Garrity, but Jay's right. We need to do this now if we really believe there's going to be something more than a high school thing between us."

"If you love something, set it free?" Lyla said as tears began to slip from her eyes. She leaned in towards his chest.

Tim placed his good arm around her shoulder and slowly rubbed her back. "Is that some kind of Disney thing?"

Lyla pulled out of his embrace and reached her hand up to brush her tears away. "No—I had it on a poster when I was a kid. 'If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was.' You think we'll come back together?"

Tim smiled. "I think I'll put a lot of miles on my truck driving up to Nashville."

Lyla pushed away, sitting back in her chair. Her fingers reached out to touch Tim's hand resting on the table.

"My whole life I thought I knew how things were going to be. I was with Jason. We'd go to Notre Dame. We'd get married. We'd have babies. We'd bail you out of jail and send diapers to your baby mama."

Tim laughed and shifted in his seat, still nursing his shoulder. "I figured I'd ride out football and pick up some job around town, wait for you and Jay to get back to town at some point and then we'd be together again. Then that night I knew that it was never gonna be that way, that nothing was gonna be the way we hoped it would be."

"But us—this isn't some kind of twisted way of trying to turn back the clock, is it?" Lyla asked.

"I don't think we'll know unless you go to Vanderbilt and I do my thing here. Lyla, if we go to San Antonio State, then we're just trying to live that life we thought Jay would have."

Lyla nodded.

He reached across and took her hand again. "I want to know that it's real—that it's not just about Jay anymore. I need to start living my life and I think you need to do the same thing."

"So, that's it—you're just going to stay here?" she asked.

"Except when I'm driving up to Nashville to see you," Tim replied. "Unless Billy kills me. He, uh, wasn't exactly making me a partner when I left to come over here."

"He wants the best for you, Tim," Lyla said, quietly. "We all do."

Tim smiled. "It's weird, because I kind of feel like for the first time I might know what that is." And it was true. The wave of calm—the one he had felt when Coach Taylor spoke in the dressing room—washed over him again. It was how he felt that last night before the game against Westerby when he and Jason and Lyla had talked about their plans for the future. When he had known that no matter what, the three of them would always be together.

Except nothing ever worked out exactly like you planned, and now here he was with Lyla, trying to find a path with just the two of them. It was different, and she might be going to school in Nashville while Jay was working in New York, but for the first time in a long time Tim felt like he knew what his future held. And he was excited.

_/fin/_


End file.
